


autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place

by jessicawhitly



Series: nothing gold can stay [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 17:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20855276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicawhitly/pseuds/jessicawhitly
Summary: Just because Joyce and Hopper end up with the chore of raking the leaves from the front yard doesn't mean they can't have a little fun while doing it.





	autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title is from All Too Well by Taylor Swift, series title is from the poem Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost. All the stories will be in the same series, but won't necessarily be connected verse-wise!

“I asked the kids to rake the yard days ago,” Joyce frowns, glancing out the window as she finishes with the dishes, the front yard littered with fallen leaves from the two large oak trees that presided over opposite ends of their lawn.

“Have I mentioned lately how great it is, having teenagers?” Hopper snorts, folding the paper before standing up from the kitchen table. “They’re at the Wheeler’s for some…campaign thing. I think. I half understood what Will said on his way out the door.”

Joyce’s lips twitched affectionately at that, and she dried her hands on a dish towel.

“Well, tomorrow’s trash day, and we have to have the yard cleaned up for the party this weekend, so I guess it’s on us,” she lifts an eyebrow, hands falling to her hips. Hopper lets out a groan, his head falling backwards as Joyce tugs on the ends of his flannel shirt. “Don’t make me beg.”

She does her best impression of a pout, and she knows Hopper’s easy putty in her hands as she presses herself against his chest, feeling his hands come up to grip her hips.

“You don’t fight fair,” he tells her, glaring at her from under his eyebrows, though there’s no malice in the look. Joyce smiles primly, lifting onto her toes to peck his lips.

“Never said I did,” she replies, sinking back down onto her heels and turning to place the dishtowel on the counter. “It’ll be faster with two of us.”

“There some kind of reward at the end of it?” Hopper asks, lifting an eyebrow as he follows her through the house and into the garage, where she pushes the handle of the larger rake into his hands before lifting an eyebrow.

“A job well done and a clean yard aren’t enough for you?” she counters, and Hop snorts as they step into the October sunlight, the afternoon chilly enough for the thin jacket Joyce had grabbed, but not freezing.

Their new yard was decently sized, so Joyce sends Hopper to the far back corner while she works from the opposite side, with the intent of meeting in the middle. It’s vaguely mind-numbing work; Joyce lets her mind wander- and occasionally her eyes, finding Hopper bent over his rake and giving her something to stare at.

“Hey, babe?” she’s pulled from her thoughts by Hopper’s voice, and she looks up from her pile of leaves, humming in response. “This is boring.”

Joyce laughs at that, and she can’t argue with him.

“You know…” she tilts her head thoughtfully, and Hopper’s eyes narrow as he watches her, lips curving in amusement.

“Oh, I know that look,” he says, and Joyce sticks her tongue out at him before she tosses her rake to the side, and then promptly launches herself at him. He isn’t prepared for her weight, and they topple into his rather impressive pile of leaves, the red and gold foliage fluttering around them. Joyce twists so she’s straddling his waist, palms on his chest and smile creasing her lips. “I’m gonna have to rake these all back up now, you know that, right?”

“Mm, not quite yet,” Joyce tells him, leaning down until she can capture his mouth with hers; Hopper’s hands come up to comb through her hair, flakes of leaves tangling in the brunette locks. One hand slid down to toy with the hem of her shirt, flirting with the pale skin of her waist, and Joyce nipped at his bottom lip, pulling back slightly and panting. She tried hard to look stern, but the simmering heat of her gaze and aroused flush of her cheeks gave away how turned on she was. “Trying to give Main Street a show?”

“Old Man Johnson’s probably having the time of his life watching through the window,” Hopper murmurs, mouthing along her jaw until he could suck at the hinge, and Joyce hides her snort in his neck, scratching her nails against his scalp.

“Ew, guys, gross!” Joyce straightens up at the sound of El’s voice, and the sound of two bicycles hitting the driveway pulls them from their bubble. El and Will both join them on the law, faces scrunched in mock-disgust at the scene before them, and Joyce merely arches an eyebrow at the pair of them.

“I believe I asked for the yard to be raked up _last_ weekend, by the two of _you_,” her eyes dart between the two children, whose eyes both widen as they look at each other. “That’s what I thought. Go grab some more rakes from the garage. We should be able to finish this in no time between the four of us.”

She looks back down at Hopper as the kids scamper off, finding him looking up at her with an overwhelming blend of fondness and amusement, and she feels a blush settle on her cheek, seeping down her neck.

“What?” she asks, self-conscious, and he shakes his head, lifting a hand to smooth her hair from her face before he pushes them both into a seated position and then hauls them to their feet.

“I tell you how much I love you today yet?” he asks, and warmth pools in her belly. She bites her lip, tucking her chin to her chest as she bends to pick her rake back up.

“Never hurts to hear it twice,” she answers, and he chuckles as he bends to press his lips to her cheek, scruff scratching at her skin.

“Love you,” he murmurs, kissing her pulse point, and Joyce hums as El and Will rejoin them, taking over Joyce’s section of the lawn as the two of them split Hopper’s former section.

As she’d predicted, the yard is clear not even half an hour later, trash bags full of leaves sitting on the curb for pickup. El reaches up as they walk back up to the house, plucking a large yellow piece from Joyce’s hair, and arching an eyebrow as her lips curl upwards in faint amusement. Joyce’s cheeks color, but she wraps an arm around the teenager and ignores the leaf that flutters to the pavement.

“So, hot chocolate?”


End file.
